


Just for a Report

by pixiyella



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Stalking, That Italian Place on 19th Street Riddler Mentions in an Arkham Tape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiyella/pseuds/pixiyella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Riddler is attracted to Reader, and decides to take advantage of the fact that Reader is in college and can't afford to fail their next report.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't really pin point an exact version of Batman media I'm working with here? I'm just drawing my characterization heavily from parts that feature Riddler in the Arkham games, but they don't take place in those games, so... yeah.

Every morning you had a specific routine you followed. You got up out of bed, ate breakfast, brushed your teeth, got dressed, and brushed your hair. Then you did any other little things you wanted to do that day before heading on out. However, the end of your routine was honestly just annoying. Every single morning, when you'd go to head out the door, there would be an envelope slid under your door. It was nice and green and had your name printed on it, so you couldn't just chalk it up to being slid under the wrong door like you so desperately wanted to. If it wasn't an envelope containing some sort of puzzle or riddle with a lovey dovey answer, it was a package. 

The more expensive the package contents looked, the more likely you were to take it to the GCPD, and the more likely they were to confirm that it had disappeared in the past few days. You'd become a sort of regular, at least half the workers were on a first name basis with you now. You were pretty sure some of them felt sorry for you. 

Because you had to deal with that green suit wearing mess.

It took quite a lot to catch his attention in a positive light, much less a romantic one. Hell, you weren't even good at Riddles. You had been new to Gotham, and were in one of his infamous death traps as Bat bait. You found this all ridiculous, and questioned "Why not just hijack that bat signal? He'll show up if you flash it."

Of course, the Riddler would never take you up on that (you didn't know why at the time. You were new to Gotham and just assumed he was horrible at being a super villain). But he appreciated the cleverness, the ability to reach point A and point B. It was such an obvious conclusion, yet none of the villains had ever really taken this route. That was when he decided he liked you.

It took about two months until he broke out of Arkham after being captured by Batman that night. You'd almost forgotten about the incident, settling into the bustling Gotham life much better. You were in college and had finals and tests and projects to distract your mind anyways. Besides, getting in some sort of villainous scheme was practically a right of passage for any Gothamite. You heard a bunch of sorority girls on campus your first day, sharing their first villain encounters like fond childhood memories. It stopped being a big deal to you.

Then the envelopes and the packages began showing up.

You were pretty relieved he hadn't done anything bigger yet. He clearly knew where you lived, and could probably pay someone enough money to kidnap you. Your best assumption was that he was enjoying this little game of keeping you on your toes, with the constant knowledge that he _could_ bust in at any moment. So you did all you could. You lived out your life as normal.

Sometimes you'd read the envelopes, but you always shredded them and their contents. You didn't want to know how badly your future career options could be damaged if people thought you were entangled with a well known criminal. You returned the contents of the packages to the police stations, who were usually already quite aware if they were from one of Riddler's escapades or not.

You had decided two things by the fourth day of this. One, he was probably not going to stop, and two, you were not going to end up a Harley.

A "Harley," as you learned, was a slang term now around Gotham. It was based off this lady that worked at Arkham before you got there, named Dr. Harleen Quinzel. She fell for her patient, the Joker, and went off the deep end over him. The term "a Harley" was used for guys and girls that came to Gotham not realizing how dangerous the villains were, romanticizing Harley and the Joker's relationship because they hadn't lived among its rampages.

While you were sure she was a nice lady and all (who was now in a much better relationship with Poison Ivy, so you heard, and the two enjoyed committing crime on Friday nights), you didn't want to end up going down such a path yourself. There was no way, you thought, that you could date a villain and not end up doing crimes yourself and likely end up in a horrible situation along the way.

You repeated that to yourself as you marched, in high heels none the less, to this little Italian restaurant on 19th Street.

The morning's letter- which you regretted ever opening- stated that ("Luckily for you") the Riddler had procured the book you needed from the Gotham library for your report. You didn't know how he knew you needed to get that book with enough time to take every single copy from the library, though that would explain why all of them were out when you got there yesterday. But this report was going to make or break your grade in that class (you also wondered how he knew that, since he seemed so sure you would show), and you knew your teacher was tremendously fond of its author. So you found yourself trudging down the street in a nice black-tie event worthy outfit to have dinner with a super criminal because you needed to pass that class, damn it.

And there the bastard was himself, standing right inside the doors, leaning on his cane with a grin as you entered. "Ah, there you are. I must say I was wondering if you were going to show up," He said with a tone indicating he thought that was a joke. As if, even without the leverage of you having to retake another class, you would have gladly shown to have dinner with him.

He got the two of you a nice and private table in the back. You couldn't tell by the look the waitress gave when she glanced at you if she felt sorry for you, or a little scared of you.

He began talking, managing to swerve the conversation to his backstory, and damn it you were trying hard not to care. You weren't a hardened soul, though, and try as you might, you did feel a little sorry about that, though.

A little. Just a little.

"Enough about me, why don't you tell me about yourself?" He sipped a little wine, and from the way he eyed you, you had a feeling he already had done his research. 

You nonchalantly threw out a few facts, such as the state you were from, and that Gotham University was your third choice in colleges. 

As the night wore on, though, you found yourself feeling a little... charmed. He was egotistical, but not unbearable. You found yourself smiling and sometimes laughing at your wit, and with a little bit of wine with your dinner, relaxing and unwinding. He had a little gleam in his eye that you liked. 

"Ah, just a second, I have to run to the bathroom," You got up. 

He grinned and swallows a bite of his dish. "Oh, please, take your time."

After finishing up with your business, you glanced at yourself in the mirror, straightening up your outfit and hair. _It's not like I want to impress him,_ you think to yourself. _I just like to look respectable, is all._ Even as you think it, you recognize it's only a little more than half true.

Arriving back to the table, you find he's disappeared, there's a delicious looking desert in front of your seat, and a little note sat beside it.

_That report of yours isn't due for another three weeks. I think I can hold onto this book a little longer, don't you? I think I'll show up to escort you to dinner myself next time, maybe I'll have a change of heart about giving up this little book. I would leave you a little riddle so you can try to guess where I'll take you, but honestly I rather doubt you've been to Gotham's high end establishments before tonight._

_Have you considered wearing green?_

Under the note is the cash to pay for the meal, and you can't help but grin as you sit down to eat your treat.

He's definitely playing a game with you, all right, and maybe you'll let him win.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get to write that report.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and ye shall receive. I've gotten enough requests for a follow up to that first chapter that I decided to make a second part, despite the original intent for a one shot.

After a couple more dates, you finally had the book you needed write your report. It had taken that Italian place on 19th Street Edward was so fond of, the movie theater in downtown Gotham (which was not-so-mysteriously vacant for your six p.m. date), and a trip to the Gotham Museum of Art to get it. You found that Edward was an asshole with a superiority complex, but he let you call him Eddie from time to time, and you'd seen others get hit over the head with his question-mark shaped cane for it, so, at the very least, he cared about you. Specifically. Which made him more manageable than you had expected. 

However, sitting down to write the paper was a challenge in and of itself.

"Really? You're going with that thesis statement?" Edward leaned with one hand on your desk as he looked over your shoulder at your laptop. "You can do better than  _that,_ " He then looked expectantly at you, waiting to see you improve it before he would be satisfied. Rolling your eyes, you spiced up the sentence a little with some better words and made it a tad more professional. 

"How's that?" You asked him, taking his hat off his head and putting it on your own.

Edward frowned, took his hat back, and read over the sentence. "Really, I think you can just come up with a better idea all together. You're better than this."

You frowned, looking over at him. You'd been through three dates that all had the potential to become life endangering to get a book to do this paper, and now he was nit-picking. "Edward?" You asked him.

"Yes, love?"

"Whose paper is this?"

"Why, yours of course!" 

"Then let me write the damn thing," You turned your head back to your computer and continued typing into your first body paragraph. 

Ed was agitated, and it was obvious from the way he drummed his fingers on your desk and read every letter and punctuation mark as you typed. He was bursting with ways for you to improve this paper, and the fact that you would not accept his corrections kind of insulted him. Not that he would ever admit it, of course.

Silence.

"...Darling, if you would just move that sentence here-" 

"Edward," You cut him off, "Do you want to write this paper yourself? If so, then go ahead." You shoved the laptop to the other end of the desk so he could type, if he dared take the challenge.

And of course, being Edward Nygma, he did. "I'm just improving what was already there, darling, don't worry."

You rolled your eyes. You knew the report would be entirely rewritten by the time he let you have your computer back. But you couldn't help cracking a smile at his petulant behavior. 

_It's kind of endearing, on him, anyways,_ you thought to yourself as you went to brew another pot of coffee. After all, you two would be pulling an all nighter. Edward had kept the book you'd needed until the day before the paper was due. 


End file.
